


Intentions of The Forsaken

by AceFromOuterSpace



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Death, Depression, Dissociation, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic Violence, Harm, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Major Character Death(s), Memory Loss, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Suicide, more tags to come im sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceFromOuterSpace/pseuds/AceFromOuterSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is my first work so the chapters are a bit shorter than most. I will be posting either daily or every other day as I am excited to share with you. If you have any prompts you'd like for me to do please feel free to share!</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Faded

Slowly. Gently. He felt the deep scar that ran across his right hip. His terra cotta skin darker and rougher than the skin of the scar. His white undershirt pulled just high enough so that he could eye the odd smooth indentation. As he touched the strange feeling skin, pictures flashed threw his rustled mind. A Sunset. A small glint of light. Pain. Air rushing passed his face. A darkness he could not fight. He jerked his cold fingers away from the scar and slowly looked to observe himself in the clear mirror. He examined his messy hair and his scratchy face as if he were memorizing the details of his brooding body for the last time. He pulled himself closer to the full body mirror. Isn't it sad to go to your grave without ever wondering why you were born? He, with such a thought, would not spring from where he stood, eager to resume discovering the world and rejoicing to be part of it. His thoughts barely pushing through as he eyed himself.

 

A quick memory of a younger man flashed into his mind as he stared into his own worn down eyes. He could remember the first time he looked into this mirror. His tawny eyes; once full of youth, pride, and excitement, now empty as if completely drained of any feelings. 

 

 

'The eyes are the passage way to the soul.'

 

Satya's stern voice rings in his head as her face slowly rises in his memory. Her hair long and dark like Raven feathers. Her facial features were strong and yet somehow soft at the same time. Even in youth she had a very 'grown up' face. He remembered the last time he saw her. He remembers the scornful look. The loud argument. The final goodbye. And the words she mumbled under her breathe. 

 

'It's time to grow up.'

 

That wasn't just the last time he had seen Satya. That was the day, she walked out of Overwatch completely. Symmetra had died a slow and agonizing death and where she once stood was now a woman who no longer believed that change would ever be possible. 

 

He sighed as he thought on her coarse words. The light of the sun now began to shine through the slightly cracked window. He watched as the golden light slid up higher and higher eventually filling the entire room. He turned back to look at his small untouched bed and let out a slight sigh of relief. Another night untouched.

 

The relief on his face shines like the sun through his window as he thinks of the past few nights of sleep. A dream catcher sits broken above his lonely bed. 

 

 

A small black swivel chair has a fresh pair of clothes on it. Washed from his last mission. The chair sits in front of a beautifully crafted redwood desk with a small computer monitor atop it. The computer is dark and lacks life. It's keys dusty and unclean. 

 

He picks his clothes off the chair and inspects them as if checking for any possible missed blood stains. There are none. Despite his appearance, he is not a messy man. He slicks his hair back and puts all his clothes on only to finish by turning to the mirror, slicking his hair back once more and placing his hat gently upon his flowing brown locks. He makes little finger gun gestures at the mirror and roughly laughs a very quiet laugh. He smirks at himself in the mirror showing his teeth to be whiter than a fresh blanket of snow. 

 

The man now in his complete combat gear speaks to his reflection as if it were to give a response. "Howdy pard'ner." He tips his hat slightly downward as he says this. A slight grin slips onto his face only for it to be chased away by shame. Jesse McCree's forced smile was too much to see in the mirror.


	2. Look Away

"If you think I haven't noticed something is a miss than you are surely mistaken," says a voice from the hall. He turns to face his partially opened door. The speaker sighs.

"May I Enter?" 

"If ye thinks ya must." 

The speaker enters and places herself near the bedside of McCree. She's soft and gorgeous with an absolutely radiant smile. Angela. 

"I know something troubles you Jesse." She eyes him as he continues to face himself in the mirror. 

"Can I be of any service?" 

 

He wants to say yes but he's stopped. A lump in his throat blocks the right words and instead he flashes his broken smile. 

 

"That's mighty kind of ya deary, but I'm gonna have to pass. Ain't nothing wrong with me." 

 

He's lying through his teeth but he knows there's nothing she'd be able to do for him. He leans to his side so that his body relaxes against the wall kicking his boots forward just enough so that the Spurs cling once as they touch the ground. He knows Angela can see through his lie. 

 

Her hair flips whimsically as she looks out the door and towards the hall. 

 

"It's just us for now. The others are out on a mission. They'll be back before lunch." 

Angela turns and inspects the room as she waits for a response from the rustic looking cowboy. She eyes the broken dream catcher. Hey eyes clearly determined to find the source of any problems he could possibly be having. 

Finally she speaks again. 

" I'll close the door on my way out," she says. Her voice drifting away from the situation. Slowly the golden rays that followed her left the room and the click of the door closing followed right behind. The room was now still and quiet. Once again McCree was left alone. The mirror in his room now showing a small glassy form roll down his rough scratchy cheek. This sight is repulsive to him. Grown men don't cry. He tries to look away but there's something so intriguing about the gentle wet tears that began to flow down his face. Suddenly, the mirror cracked as a burst of rage pushed itself through McCree's body and in to his fist. The sound of metal hitting glass filled his ears as he now stared down a man with a crack down the middle of his face. 

Reckless. He thought to himself as he let out a heavy breathe of air. A broken mirror, he paused mid thought looking down at his metallic prosthetic arm and thinking of the large scar he hid beneath his clothes. For a broken man. 

McCree opened the window and observed the wooden trim around it. He admired the smooth swirling designs of the dark wood. He pulled a cigar out of the dresser next to him, burned the tip and pressed it against his lips . He draws the smoke in lightly and closes his eyes, releasing it to the wind with a gentle blow. It's filth. The sun bounces off the giant building and the sand below. His eyes open slowly to avoid being blinded by the beautiful golden rays of the sun. He turns and leaves the damp lonely room. Entering the hall he hears Angela rustling around in the kitchen. 

He walks past her and grabs a small cup. She offers him some coffee but he refuses as he reaches up to grab a teabag from the top of the fridge. "I find this to be more relaxin' than that pot o'dirt you've got 'ight there." He says with a small grin. She laughs and smiles at him. "Suit yourself," her words coming through with a golden smile. Everything was golden today. 

The day seemed kind and gentle, exactly what McCree needed. It was the first time in a long while that he was truly able to relax. Athena's voice chimed through the kitchen and echoed through the halls. Her alarm blaring. 

_________

INCOMING MESSAGE

_________

09:58

MISSION A TRAP 

TALON HEADED TO MAIN BASE

HEAVILY ARMED 

 

TAKE COVER IMMEDIATELY AND WAIT FOR BACKUP

_____

MESSAGE INTERRUPTED

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work so the chapters are a bit shorter than most. I will be posting either daily or every other day as I am excited to share with you. If you have any prompts you'd like for me to do please feel free to share!


	3. Ain't Catching A Thing

The walls shook as Angela and McCree raced through the base trying to collect and protect any delicate information about the members of the team. Large explosions could be heard at the far east quadrant where the team would normally be training for possible combat days. They were able to pack almost all valuables into three large boxes which they then carried through the smoke filled halls to a large black van with elegantly tinted windows. Quickly, they opened the trunk of the vehicle and placed the packed boxes hastily into it. Angela readies the vehicle for a speedy getaway when she notices McCree's hands trembling.

"McCree, whats wrong," her voice trembled with the words. 

"We've gotta go now, there's no way we could face all of them. Not just the two of us. Come on now," she goes to help him to the vehicle only to be cut off by a tall dark figure emerging from the ground. 

_Crnck-Crnck_

The figure now between McCree and Angela laughs a deep throaty laugh as he fires his weapon directly at Angela. She lets out a sharp yelp as she falls back against the vehicle. She grabs her shoulder with great pressure causing herself to squirm as if attempting to move away from the pain. Without thinking McCree throws his flash bang underneath the figure causing him to stumble backwards just enough so McCree could get by. He places his arms underneath Angela and picks her up. Blood now dripping on his freshly washed gear. He tries to place her in the vehicle as quickly and gently as he can but he is pulled back by the figure in black. He releases his grip on Angela, allowing her to fall into the vehicle as he falls backwards onto the ground. The figure now standing directly over the cowboy blocks out the sun with his ominously dark body points two large metallic weapons at his face. McCree didn't want this to be the end. Not in front of Angela.  
McCree was now directly facing the barrels of two bulky guns. 

_Crnck-Crnck_

McCree woke with a thunderous yell. His voice ringing through his damp quiet room. He looked at the glassy mirror that stood across from his bed, unscathed, and let out a heavy exasperated breath.  
_Fuckin Just A Dream_  
His breathing heavy and scattered. He's still in his gear. Peacekeeper resting on the stand closest to his bed. Someone knocks on his door with a quick and soft tap. McCree steadies his breathing and stands noticing the still burning Cigar on his windowsill. Another knock. This time harder and faster. He picks up the cigar and takes a long slow drag. Breathing in the smoke to help him calm himself. He turns and walks to the small oak door. He reaches out and grabs the silver knob and turns it slowly. Lena stands in his doorway with a worried expression. Her short hair swift and softly followed the edges of her face.

"You alright luv? I heard a shout comin from your room? 

McCree looks down at the small anxious child. "Everything is just peachy." His speech is slow and drawn out. 

"Ya sure? It's almost noon and you haven't left ya room? Usually your the first of us to be up in the mornng." 

The concern in her voice caused her accent to be suppressed a noticeable amount.

McCree takes a long drag on his cigar then he expels the smoke above Lena's head. She coughs a bit and shutters at the smell.

"Look, kid. I'm a lil' hungover. That'all. Now, if y'excuse me," he attempts to close the door but is stopped but Lena who races into his room followed by a blue streak.

"What are y-," he's interrupted once again by the impressed look on her face.

"Huh, not as messy as I imagined it to be." 

Lena looks surprised as she turns to face the cowboy who stands in front of her. 

"I imagined it to be an utter shamble, truth be told." 

She smiles at him as her eyes wander around the room. Her gaze only freezes when she notices the broken dream catcher hanging above the small messy bed. McCree's gaze follows hers. The room is now awkwardly silent for a moment. 

"Y'know it doesn't work when it's broken," she states when she notices the strange silence.

McCree lets out a small puff of smoke as he unknowingly nibbles the end of the cigar. He turns to face Lena. 

"Ya rush inta my personal quarters, jus for tha-" his words can't escape his mouth before Lena cuts in again. 

"Nah, love, I rushed in to remind you, we got that new guy today! You ought come meet him. Might swell guy. Full of life! Should be a great addition to the team!" 

Her voice speeding past his head like a flying bullet.

"New blood? Don't we got 'nough?" 

His words causing the speedy brunette to freeze for a moment as if he had said something absolutely disgraceful to her. 

"What?" 

McCree says obviously caught off guard by Lena's sudden silence and stillness. 

"I- I just thought you'd be excited by the news. He ain't a young chap y'know! Came this time with Genji. So he ought to be good!" 

Lena's voice ringing in his ears. What was she trying to do? Did she forget that McCree has not been allowed to go on any missions since the fall. Did she not realize this new character on their team was probably there to replace him. McCree sighed as thoughts rushed through his head. His thoughts swirling through his head louder than the young hero's voice. His thoughts slowly consumed him as he imagined all the situations for this new blood to be on their team. Lena's voice suddenly chimed through. 

"MCCREE!" 

Her voice sounded irritated and louder then it did before. He jumped and stared at her with wide eyes. 

"You gonna come and meet the chap with me or what?" 

Her accent sings to his ears as he thinks up an image of what the new man could possibly look like. He looks at Lena and knows that she was not gonna take no for answer. 

"Might as well, darlin," he says with another heavy sigh. 

"Well, let's go!" 

Lena yells as she rushes out his room into the hall. 

"Last I heard he was in the training room! Hurry up luv!" 

Lena rushes down the hall with great speed and excitement. McCree attempts to follow her but stops in the middle of the hall. He turns and rushes back into his room. He walks to the dresser in his room and grabs the sepia wide-brimmed hat that rested upon the dresser and gently places it on the top of head. He pulls the back of it down a bit. He grins then jogs down the hall to two large gray metallic doors and with a hefty shove McCree busts through the large doors as if he were just entering a saloon in an old western film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are absolutely shit and I blame McCree's cheap ass cigars but now the men of the hour are about to meet at last. Wonder how this'll go. Also shout out to the kind McHanzo shippers in the discord chat group. Thanks for the help and kind words of support! Also Lena totally would interrupt you all the time! You gotta admit that.


	4. Flame

The doors bust open dramatically. The room was almost completely dark. The only light shining in through a one way window. Everyone stood transfixed by the figure fighting the simulations within the room on the other side of the tinted glass. McCree drugs his heavy boots to the locked door peering through the small slit of glass in the center of it. The simulation was nearly complete but the figure everyone was so transfixed on appeared to be nowhere in sight at least no where McCree could see. McCree, not wanting to seem too interested, turned and sat in a dark cushioned chair near the control panel. Winston was sitting at the control panel with his glasses resting gently on the brim of his nose. A large jar of smooth peanut butter sat next to the crapulous gorilla. The plastic jar sat cautiously on the table, completely empty of its content. Winston's eyes did not move to notice McCree sitting next to him. He was focused on pushing the new recruit as much as he could and based on his stumbling face, he was not succeeding.

McCree looked over at the monitors that surrounded the control panel. Simulated fighters, all falling to the invisible hero without any effort appearing to be made, flicker across the screen. The fighters dart around like McCree's eyes looking for the one who keeps destroying their efforts. An inaudible yell is heard as the power within the simulation room flickers and a sudden small cerulean fire appears to emerge from one of the posts inside the simulation. The fire soon takes a shape like a great serpent and dives into the fighters with a strong and bellowing roar. The roar vibrates everyone's bones as it echoes through the walls and disappears. Athena's voice breaks the tightlipped silence. 

_~Simulation Terminated~_

The words echo through the two rooms and silence returns as if everyone was holding their breath waiting for some sort of sign that what they had all just witnessed was real. McCree stands up and walks to the now unlocked door. He tugs it open and steps into the busy room filled with what looks to be beach houses or possibly even a small community of townhouses. The image of a young man with soft fluffy hair and a giant smile appears in his mind. He has yet to see this new recruit. He waits for the enthusiastic greeting of the new blood. He waits for his replacement to appear before him as spry and young as ever.

McCree looks over his shoulder at the one sided glass that blends in with the edge of a townhouse building. His body tenses at the pure silence in the room. The buildings begin to flicker and flash before they disappear completely and a figure stands directly across from the cowboy. A room full of white and silence surrounds the two of them. McCree knows that by now everyone in the small room on the other side of the glass is probably pressed against the barrier trying to hear the words yet to be exchanged between the two strangers. 

McCree looks over the man standing across from him. His eyes burnt by the brightness of the pale room attempt to make out any features on the figure. He can see the dark hair pushed back into what looks like an intense ribbon holding it in a ponytail. McCree's words escape his mouth without thought. 

"What'n the hell was that Voodoo shit pard-"

"You insult me hillbilly, I am a Shimada!" a deep deadly voice growls out shocking the cowboy into a audible gasp.

"Shittake? Like the mushrooms?" The cowboy says at an attempt to get the man to speak again. 

McCree looks down at his brown muddy boots as he waits for the stern voice of the new recruit to ring out through the silence yet again. Suddenly, it burst into his thoughts. Genji is a Shimada. This man didn't just come with Genji. He is the swift-dragon bladed cyborg's sibling. He looks up at the man again and notices the slight blue glow omitted from his arm before slowly fading across what looks to be a swirling blue snake around his arm. Dark storms clouds appear to surround the aegean serpent but they are still. The glow slowly subsides into the man's arm. 

"I ain't mean to insult. I just wanna know the hell that was." 

The tension in the room was strong enough to cut through steel. McCree looked over his shoulder as if to try and gesture for someone else to join the two of them and ease the flaring nerves. 

"Y'know I'm the man you're replacin right pardner," McCree says with an irritated tone.

"The least ya could do is show some respect!" His anger rings through the white room bouncing off every wall and back. 

"There is reason for that." The silence is broken by the strange Shimada brother his words aimed for McCree's heart. 

McCree's nostrils flare as he thinks of how to respond to the man's insult but the words never come and McCree turns and walks out, not conversing with any of the team waiting in the small room. He walks through the hall, his body shaking with anger.

As he turns the knob to enter into his musky dark room, he pauses. Frozen for only a single moment, he thinks of the details of the Shimada brother's face. His facial hair was a dark brown shade like that of coffee grounds. His face appeared to be very chiseled. His features appeared sculpted and powerful. His face able to turn McCree to stone with a single look he was sure. 

_Medusa Motherfucker-_

McCree opened his room's door with a quiet laugh at the sound of his own joke. He took his by its brim and placed it upon his dresser gently. He walked to the foot of his bed and turned to face the glossy mirror. He sat back on the edge of the springy bed and flopped onto his back. Looking up at the rough patchy ceiling in his room, McCree folds up his hands on his chest and loses his self to his thoughts. He thinks about how the man stood. Shoulders back. Squared up as if McCree had showed up to fight him. The man was also shorter than McCree as he could see the top of his hair. His hair was a dark dramatic shade of black and was held up by a golden ribbon. 

_A golden ribbon._

McCree thought about the golden ribbon, how gold always seemed to bring him great joy or great pain. He already knew what this would be. His replacement was wearing the golden ribbon with great pride. He began to think about the man's rough skin where the tattoo that could magically come to life rested. He silently laughed as he thought about his Medusa joke again. A thought sprang to McCree's eager mind.

_How?_

How was this man, who was nowhere close to being as tall or as experienced as McCree, able to take out so many fighters without help or breaking a single god damn sweat? His mind began doubling over question after question. Sitting up, McCree looks to the red beading in the dreamcatcher. He stands and walks over to his hat. He reaches out to open a small chest that sat beneath the wide brimmed accessory. The small oaky chest has a slight aroma to it as if it has been used so much the smell has soaked into its wooden walls. He pulls out a cigar and inspects it before placing the edge in a slot on the box. He pushes the lid down and it cuts the tip of the dowdy cigar. He reaches into the box and pulls out a small box of matches. The original label is scratched off and McCree's signature tag is carved onto the flimsy cardboard. He strikes the match on the side of the box causing it to ignite in a hissing glory. A red flame burns on a small stick between his fingers. His eyes focus on it imagining it as a flying, twirling, roaring beast striking down any and all who dare go against him. He thinks on the flaming beast that the Shimada pulled from his storming tattoo sleeve, doing his best to remember the details of it. He wonders if this means the Shimada could conjure up a storm as well or was that possibly just the smoke from the beast driving itself back into the skin of the man who held it. McCree jolts back into reality when the fire edges to close to his bare skin. He drops the match and watches as the air rushing past extinguishes the burning. He picks up what is left of the burnt match and places it on his looming dresser. He strikes another match and brings it to the cigar resting between his weather-beaten lips. He drags on his cigar as he shakes the burning life out of the match and places it on top of the dresser with the failed attempt before. 

"Filthy habit McCree," Angela utters as she walks into his room with a small pale satchel. 

"I ain't expectin no visitors 'ight now Angie."

His word come out distant as his face doesn't turn from the window he stares out of. Angela looks at him with a concerned expression gracing her soft face. She walks over to him placing a hand on his shoulder covering red serape. 

"Another dream?" She asks trying to get him to make eye contact with her gentle blue eyes. 

"Angie, its been a hell'of'a day already. Can we not discuss-" McCree's words cut off by a gentle hug. He feels Angela pulls his back close to her, holding him tight. He sighs.

"It was you this time yknow," his words shaking as he spoke.

"I tried my best but I let you watch me ~." He mumbles the final words. His cigar rest in his metallic hand as he speaks. 

"I'm still here McCree. It was all a dream. You're back here. This is reality, I promise you." 

She releases and walks between McCree and the window. She rips a small piece of paper off her a notepad in her pocket and writes something in it and then Angela folds it up. She hands the piece of paper to McCree and smiles a sweet angelic smile. 

"Open that and read it, outloud." 

"Heroes never die." He lefts out a heavy scuff and looks at Angela awaiting her explanation. 

"It's a way to know what is reality. Hold onto that and when you are unsure pull it out and try to read it. When you are dreaming or disassociating you will not be able to read it. I guarantee. I know it's not much but it should help you when it comes to distinguishing reality from fiction. "

Angela grabs her small bag and turns to McCree. She smiles as her golden hair swings around and she goes to walk out his door.

"Thanks," McCree whispers as he watches her turn to walk down the hall.

" Ooouf! Ah oh, my apologies Hanzo." 

Angela reaches to pick the small satchel but is stopped by a hand that grabs it for her. 

"No, please, it is quite alright." The voice rings in McCree's ears.

"Hanzo?" McCree repeats the name in his head over and over again. 

_Hanzo._

_Hanzo._

_Hanzo._

The man from the training room, Genji's brother's name was Hanzo. The name fit the look.

_The look!_

McCree now had a clear view of the Shimida brother. Hanzo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you are all ready for dorky McCree and Hanzo they are almost to that point! 
> 
> Hi Reader!   
> Did you remember to shower today? Drink enough water? Sleep plenty of hours? Did you remember to eat?   
> Take care of yourself friend, I believe in you. <3   
> Love,   
> The Outer Space Ace


	5. Eye Contact

The man stood as tall as he could in McCree's doorway. His chest partially bulging out of his traditional clothing. The main base of the Shimada's clothing was a dark grayish tone. The accents, a dark brackish yellow. His obi, a dark moderate blue. A strap hung from from his back holding a quiver filled with special custom arrows. Accents on the quiver were a bright cyan. McCree looked up and down the archer as he spoke with Angela in the hall outside his room. He notice the tattoo on the man's arm. The clouds a dark cyan covered the open shoulder. A block strip of pure orange dances through the arm clouds and underneath the dormant dragon tattoo. The dragon's face was ferocious. The tattoo sleeve emphasized Hanzo's muscular arms. He was a beauty of a man. A glint of light flashes behind Hanzo's head. A golden scarf flickers in the light. It holds up the powerful assassin's dark brown, possibly black hair up into a ponytail that exploded atop his head. Suddenly, McCree can see his eyes. They are very dark yet grayish blue. Realizing he was making eye contact with the man in the hall, McCree felt a flush of bright red race against his cheeks. He was blushing. He was blushing at a grown man. Hanzo's gaze broke the cowboys thoughts, piercing through his head like the arrows he carried in his quiver. A slight chill creeped up McCree's spine as his gaze meets Hanzo's. Silence. Angela scurries past as if she can feel the dark vibes raising out of the two men. McCree is the first to look away, quietly mumbling a profanity or two as he hears footsteps begin to part from the open door. His heart skips a beat like that of a lovestruck fool. It begged him to see more of the picturesque assassin. McCree sat on the very edge of his bed, his palms dragging across the rough patches of facial hair. Why was he so interested in what this man looked like? Why was his heart beating so fast? Why?   
_Shit~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, writing can be really hard and I'm still recovering from the surgery! New chapters to come shortly!


End file.
